The last days of the journey passed without incident.

  No ambushes waited beyond the tree line. No warped mana signatures pressed against the convoy’s wards. Whatever force had chosen to test them in the night had learned its lesson quickly. A single scout from the team was sent ahead to hopefully notify of anything weird, thankfully he only reported empty roads, clear skies, and only the ordinary movements of travelers returning to trade routes that had briefly tasted danger.

  Whoever had organized the attack had grown cautious.

  Or patient.

  Either way, they did not try again.

  The convoy adjusted accordingly.

  Ellowen and Perrin no longer rode in comfort within the coziness of the carriage. From that night onward they remained outside the carriage almost constantly, taking an openly active role in the escort. Perrin walked or rode near the front column more often than not, pipe in hand, eyes half-lidded yet unmistakably aware of every motion around him. Sigils occasionally flickered into existence near his fingertips, subtle recalibrations of protective wards that spread invisibly across the convoy like a second skin.

  Ellowen ranged wider.

  Sometimes he rode the radiant bird overhead, its wings casting shifting light across the road. High enough no average person could see as he floated through the clouds. Other times he walked beside the carriage itself, staff resting lightly in his palm while faint threads of nature mana extended into the surrounding land. Plants responded instinctively to his presence. Grass extended to him where he stepped. Branches leaned aside as if recognizing an old friend passing through.

  The guards relaxed, though none became careless.

  The children noticed the difference immediately.

  Inside the carriage, Lance found himself sleeping deeper than he had since leaving Knighthelm. The steady hum of repaired enchantments blended with the rhythmic motion of travel, creating an almost peaceful routine. Aoife spent long stretches staring out the restored window, watching landscapes roll past with quiet fascination, while Slade struggled to understand the game of Crownfall.

  The tension that had once filled every silence faded gradually.

  Morning arrived warmer each day.

  The northern forests thinned first, giving way to broad hills patched with farmland. Stone fences replaced ancient roots along the roadside. Fields stretched outward in orderly rows, some newly planted, others already green with early growth. Farmers paused in their work to watch the convoy pass, shading their eyes beneath wide hats as armored escorts and glowing runes rolled quietly by.

  Children waved.

  Some guards waved back.

  The road itself improved as they traveled southward. What had once been rugged stone and packed earth became smoother, reinforced and maintained. Faint runic markers glowed along the edges, maintaining structural integrity and guiding drainage channels beneath the surface.

  Civilization announced itself not with noise, but with maintenance.

  Their first village appeared shortly after midday on the third peaceful day.

  It was small, little more than clustered cottages surrounding a central well. Smoke curled from chimneys carrying the scent of baking bread and woodfire. Chickens scattered from the road as the convoy approached, and a pair of elderly villagers bowed respectfully as the escort passed.

  Lance leaned toward the window.

  “They look so peaceful,” he said quietly.

  Aoife shook her head. “Boring.”

  She was right. The Mundane lifestyle of humble class bearers, or simply not lucky enough to receive a class from the ascension ceremony.

  Travelers on foot moved more freely here. Merchants guided carts loaded with produce. A group of apprentices in plain robes walked together carrying bundles of tools, laughing loudly until they noticed Perrin’s presence and immediately straightened.

  The farther they traveled, the more common such sights became.

  Villages appeared every few hours, each slightly larger than the last. Windmills turned slowly against open skies. Irrigation channels shimmered beside fields. Shrines marked crossroads, small offerings left by locals seeking protection for harvests and journeys alike.

  Safety had a Unique feeling to is, a combination of acting carefree, having stability and being able to laugh freely

  Even the escort formation loosened slightly, spacing widening as scouts reported consistently clear surroundings. Conversation returned among the guards. Laughter occasionally drifted back toward the carriage, tentative at first, then genuine.

  Late one afternoon, Ellowen walked beside Perrin near the front of the convoy as rolling farmland stretched endlessly around them.

  “They are watching less,” Ellowen observed.

  “They feel safer,” Perrin replied.

  “And you?”

  Perrin exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “Safe is quite the broad word don't you agree?”

  Ellowen smiled faintly. “Still expecting another attempt?”

  “No,” Perrin said after a moment. “If our adversary possesses sense, they will wait. The capital is a different battlefield entirely. Assuming they knew our route, and aiming for the kids in the carriage… I am guessing someone in the capital may be up to no good.”

  Ellowen just let out a soft sigh.

  Ahead, the road curved gently through another nameless settlement. This one larger than the others, built along a shallow river crossed by an arched stone bridge. Market stalls lined the roadside, merchants calling out prices to passing travelers.

  The convoy slowed slightly to navigate the narrow passage.

  Villagers gathered to watch.

  Some whispered when they saw the glowing sigils woven into the carriage frame. Others pointed discreetly toward Ellowen’s staff or Perrin’s drifting spellwork. Respect followed the convoy like a quiet echo.

  Lance pressed closer to the window as they crossed the bridge.

  Beyond the village, the land rose gradually into a wide ridge.

  And there, far in the distance, something new pierced the horizon.

  At first it looked like a pale line separating sky from earth.

  Then sunlight struck it.

  Walls.

  Massive and impossibly distant, yet unmistakable.

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  The capital.

  Even from miles away the outer defenses dominated the landscape. Towering white stone walls stretched across the horizon in an unbroken arc, their surfaces etched with colossal runic formations that shimmered faintly beneath daylight. Watchtowers rose at measured intervals, each crowned with crystal arrays that refracted sunlight into prismatic halos.

  The scale defied expectation.

  The walls were not merely defensive structures. They were declarations.

  Civilization ended here. Authority began here.

  Aoife inhaled sharply. “That’s… the wall?”

  Slade leaned beside her, eyes widening despite himself. One of the guards closer to the window spoke outloud, “That’s just the outer layer.”

  As the convoy continued forward, details slowly emerged.

  Great gates stood recessed between bastions large enough to house entire villages. Banners hung from high parapets, their colors visible even at this distance, moving slowly in steady winds. Beyond the walls rose the upper structures of the capital itself.

  Towers layered upon towers.

  Spired academies of pale stone. Wide-domed halls reflecting sunlight like polished glass. Bridges arcing between elevated districts suspended by enchantment rather than architecture alone. Mana shimmered faintly above the entire city, a translucent veil that bent light subtly around its edges.

  It looked less like a city and more like a carefully arranged constellation brought down to earth.

  Ellowen slowed his pace as he observed it.

  “No matter how many times,” he murmured, “Always a site.”

  Perrin nodded once. “Well it is the Crown Jewel of Silara.” He took an extra long toke from his pipe before speaking again, “Nobody talks about how it was built off the backs of slaves though.” Smoke steamed out his nostrils as he spoke.

  Ellowen chose not to speak, most of the slaves he referred to were dwarfs and gnomes like himself. A history many tried to deny, or just ignore. So, he simply continued maintaining the reins.

  The convoy continued to trot along, cresting along another hill, bringing the capital fully into view. Roads widened ahead, merging with other trade routes carrying caravans, pilgrims, scholars, and merchants all moving toward the same destination. Traffic increased steadily, yet order remained intact. Patrols moved along designated lanes, guiding arrivals with practiced efficiency.

  For the first time since the attack, the guards visibly relaxed.

  They were within reach of overwhelming protection now.

  Lance felt it even through the carriage walls. The ambient mana grew denser, ancient and powerful. Every enchantment hummed in harmony with unseen networks stretching toward the city. Hell, even his bond was stirring a bit in his soul space.

  Truly, the pinnacle of civilization, at least as far as he knew.

  As evening light painted the sky gold and amber, the convoy continued toward the distant gates.

  Behind them lay forests, ambushes, and uncertainty.

  Ahead waited answers, politics, and a world far larger than any of them had yet understood.

  Ellowen glanced once toward the carriage, sensing the steady mana signatures inside.

  “They made it,” he said quietly.

  Perrin followed his gaze toward the children traveling toward futures none of them could yet predict.

  “Well obviously, who do you think we are? Don't act like you didn't even bring out anything above Tier 4 during the fighter either. I know you have some real nasties sleeping within you.”

  Ellowen gave a small grin.

  The road stretched onward beneath fading sunlight, smooth and certain, carrying them toward the capital where danger would wear finer clothes and speak with polite voices instead of claws.

  And above it all, the great walls waited, unmoving and eternal, as if the world itself had drawn a boundary between chaos and order and dared anything beyond to cross it again.

  _________________________________

  The final stretch of road narrowed as it funneled toward the outer gate.

  By the time the sun dipped low behind the western hills, the convoy had joined a slow moving procession of arrivals stretching nearly half a mile back. Carriages of every design waited their turn. Merchant wagons reinforced with iron bands. Modest family carts draped in woven cloth. Polished coaches bearing noble insignias etched in gold leaf. Riders guided restless mounts along the edges while armored gate sentries directed traffic with crisp, practiced gestures.

  The outer wall rose above them like a cliff of sculpted light.

  Up close, its scale became suffocating. The white stone was not uniform but layered with veins of crystal and metal that pulsed faintly as mana coursed through them. Colossal runes were carved deep into the surface, each larger than a house, interlocking in formations too complex to comprehend at a glance. The air itself felt denser here, purposeful.

  Aoife leaned halfway out the carriage window, eyes wide despite herself.

  “It’s humming,” she whispered.

  Slade grinned. “That wall looks a lot like me and my shield don't you think?”

  Aoife rolled her eyes.

  Lance closed his eyes briefly. The sensation pressed against his senses, not hostile, not welcoming. Simply aware.

  Ahead, a detachment of gate officials moved from carriage to carriage. Each wore layered white and blue armor bearing the crest of Lascara worked into their pauldrons. Crystalline lenses hovered beside them, and verifying documents presented by arriving families, capturing and storing mana signatures. Every vehicle passed through a slow inspection field, a translucent curtain of mana that rippled faintly when living beings crossed beneath it.

  “Identification and purpose of entry,” one official called out crisply to a noble carriage near the front.

  The line advanced by inches.

  Inside their own carriage, the children grew quieter as the gate loomed larger in the window frame. Anticipation settled into something sharper.

  Tomorrow.

  Lance flexed his fingers unconsciously.

  The convoy escort tightened formation once more as they approached the checkpoint. Perrin stepped forward before any official could signal them to halt. He did not raise his voice. He did not need to.

  The nearest gate officer straightened the moment he recognized him.

  “Master Perrin.”

  Perrin removed a small object from within his coat. It was a narrow token of dark metal, circular and unassuming at first glance. When he tilted it toward the light, embedded sigils flared to life across its surface, forming a layered crest intertwined with arcane script.

  Ellowen stepped beside him, staff grounded lightly against stone. The mana around them shifted almost imperceptibly.

  The officer bowed at the waist. “Ceremony delegation?”

  “Yes,” Perrin replied calmly. “Under direct Academy clearance.”

  The officer did not hesitate. He raised a hand and signaled to the gate wardens. The translucent inspection field parted along a narrow corridor, its light folding back like drawn curtains.

  “You may proceed. The Ascendant intake district has been prepared.”

  Behind them, murmurs rippled through the waiting line. Some curious, some envious. But no one objected.

  The convoy moved forward, wheels gliding over polished stone as they passed beneath the towering archway. The gate interior was thick enough to house entire barracks. Mana conduits lined the ceiling like veins of starlight, feeding into defensive arrays hidden within the wall’s vast body.

  Crossing through felt like stepping from one world into another.

  Sound changed first. The muted countryside quiet gave way to structured city rhythm. Distant bells chimed the hour. Voices layered in countless dialects blended into a constant hum. The scent of worked stone, alchemical reagents, and fresh baked bread drifted through warm air.

  Beyond the gate, the capital unfolded in tiers.

  Wide avenues radiated outward in deliberate geometry. Elevated walkways shimmered overhead, supported by enchantment rather than visible pillars. Carriages flowed in ordered lanes while robed attendants guided new arrivals toward designated districts.

  Even the sky seemed brighter above the city.

  Their escort did not follow the main thoroughfare. Instead, officials directed them along a branching road marked by tall crystalline pylons glowing soft blue. The path curved toward a broad plaza enclosed by elegant iron fencing and low gardens shaped with deliberate artistry.

  Dozens of other carriages were already gathered there.

  Children stood in small clusters beside parents or guardians. Some wore simple travel clothes, others garments clearly tailored for presentation. Nervous laughter drifted through the plaza. A few stared openly at Ellowen’s radiant companion bird as it circled once overhead before dissolving into motes of light.

  Lance stepped down from the carriage first.

  The stone beneath his boots felt impossibly smooth. He turned slowly, taking in the gathered crowd. So many of them. Different faces. Different futures.

  Aoife hopped down beside him, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. “Well,” she muttered, scanning the other arrivals. “Surely they have good food here.”

  Slade followed more quietly, murmuring about how he can finally be free of that floating wisp.

  At the far end of the plaza stood a tall marble structure engraved with ceremonial script. Officials moved between groups, checking names against floating lists of light. Each confirmed child received a small silver band placed around their wrist, glowing faintly once secured.

  “Participants only beyond the inner gate at dawn,” one attendant announced clearly. “Families may remain in the outer district until the conclusion of the Ascension Ceremony.”

  Perrin and Ellowen remained close but did not hover. He turned to the kids.

  “Aoife, Slade. Stay with Perrin, Lance - You come with me.”

  Well this was a shocking development, but his next words cleared it up.

  “Legendary Class holders bear a different Ceremony than others.”